Old fixes the fate
In my mind
It is never too late
Words are flowers
Left onto vine
Each a beauty
All die in time
Seeds play a picture
Trouble takes a mind
I live in history
Slaver of words
Devine

So watch as the fire
Rises high in the sky
Taste my mystery
Wipe tears from your eyes
Nothing but remnants
Sole calls lies
Every picture
A woman
Cries

Out on a stake they practice
Inside the meadow they sing
Over the mountain
We return again
To live as the writers of history
Make the winners write
Sleep if you dare in the be prepared
This night

Oh river to hell you're singing
A song we all know
In the quest for perfection
We burnt doubt
Of don't go

She watched a sun rise from a hill far away
And the scribe of the passion
On a field of daisy lays
I am the lover
I am the words
Gone wrong
I am truth
But I am wrong
Found my sorrow
Kept in smoke from hill
Singles of horse and kill
Riders leaving earth
Bonds of hate relate
We touch one another
It is just too late
Words die in the ashes
Of things we don't understand
Man is a killer of ideas
And man